


The bird and the storm

by D_writes



Series: The bird and the storm [1]
Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: F/F, I don't know how else to explain it, Smut to comfort, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_writes/pseuds/D_writes
Summary: Dinah tried to get to know her, she did. But getting Helena to say something, anything, is like pulling teeth. There’s always a twitch in her hand, a squint in her eye. Constantly on the defensive. It’s like trying to pet a feral cat.So Dinah gave up on that.Helena’s still hot though, and she still looks at her like she wants to hunt her down and devour her. So why the fuck not. They’re both adults, aren’t they?orA classic case of miscommunication
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Series: The bird and the storm [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712296
Comments: 51
Kudos: 323





	1. Driven like the snow

There are nights when Gotham is darker and colder than usual. The neon light of the corner shop flickers with less energy, the security guards shiver in their uniform, and even the rats prefer the comfort of the sewers to the windswept roads and the trickling gutters pouring filthy water onto the sidewalk.

Tonight is one of those nights.

When Helena reaches her building block, her face is wet and her gloves are dripping. The only sound around her is the heavy patter of the rain and the flapping noise of her rubber coat in the wind. A car in the distance. Her own steps. She finds the weather and the empty streets match her mood after the fight.

They were seven, armed. She could have taken them all by herself, if she’s honest. It was more of a scuffle than a proper fight, and her hands are still itchy for a good pounding. All that adrenaline’s gotta to go somewhere.

She might be in luck. The person following her not so much.

Her lips quirk up at the thought, her fingers curl deliberately into fists. The steps behind her are faint, approaching at a steady pace. Almost there. She carefully chooses a spot next to her front door to stop, where the streetlight projects shadows most conveniently. She unlocks her door. She waits. She’s done this a dozen times. Gotham is a fucking hellhole if you ask her, there’s always someone ready to assault you.

_Now._

She knows the stranger has leapt forward by the change in the sound of the rain drops on his body. She spins around her leg just in time to avoid the blow, and pushes the unfortunate burglar against the wall with a gleeful smile.

It only last a split second.

“Dinah?”

Neck locked under Helena’s forearm and head pressed up against the red bricks, Dinah Lance is staring at her. A slanted, almost satisfied smirk parts her lips. The surprise is enough to throw Helena off, and before she knows it Dinah has gotten hold of her wrists and flipped their positions.

Helena wouldn’t hurt her, Dinah must know that. That’s why her grasp is firm, but definitely not enough to hold her down. If she wanted she’d free herself in an instant. If she wanted. She does want to though. Then why can’t she? If Dinah’s hands are loose, her eyes are holding her in a much tighter grip. They won’t let her move.

“Happy to see me?” Dinah’s voice is low, but unmistakably hers. She could recognise it among a thousands. It’s warm and full and shocks her entire system, every single time. And this time it must show, because Dinah lifts an eyebrow and shows her teeth like she’s about to jump on a prey.

And she does.

Dinah’s kiss is hungry, she bites and drags her teeth, her tongue slips in Helena’s mouth and leaves a scar in its wake - or so Helena thinks. Helena’s all reaction and zero control, and it may be the first time in fifteen years.

“I see the way you look at me, Huntress” Dinah says against her mouth “I know you want this.”

Dinah’s dragged Helena’s hands on her waist, exposed below her crop top, and it feels like hot coals under Helena’s fingertips. She wants to pull away but all she can do is grasp desperately and if she burns then so be it.

There’s more lips, more tongue, more teeth. There are hands crawling on her body, pulling apart and dragging, searching then finding her skin between rubber and leather. There’s a hint of metal that reminds her Dinah’s split her lip during the fight, and the taste goes right to her head.

She’s not clear on how they make it to the first floor, she’s even less sure on how she’s managed to open the door of her apartment without kicking it down, but the sound of her own keys thrown onto the table tells her she somehow did.

Her coat ends up on the floor in a pool of water. The room spins around her so much she’s glad her back found another wall, or she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up while Dinah leaves a trail of sloppy kisses on her stomach, starting from her navel and moving up, up, up, and when she finds fabric she just pushes and pushes until the purple vest makes it way up her arms and to the floor.

“Take those off” Dinah orders, flicking a finger on the seam of her fingerless gloves. Helena’s never been one to follow orders, yet she find herself obeying blindly. The fabric is wet and hangs on to her skin, she fumbles for a moment and _fuck_ when did a hand get into her boxers?

Dinah hums satisfied feeling her fingers soaking into the undeniable sign that Helena is into this as much as she is. She pushes a little harder than necessary just to watch her head drop back and her mouth gape.

_What is happening?_

A quiver runs through her entire body and _God God God this feels so much and so good_ and Dinah drags her fingers on her chest and cups her breast and in any other situation Helena would have argued there wasn’t enough to fill a hand but somehow it doesn’t matter cause there’s a tongue on her nipple and suddenly every single nerve ending in her body is vibrating.

“Easy there” Dinah teases, pulling away slowly. She watches Helena pant lightly, not without a certain amusement. She takes her hand and invites her, and Helena can do nothing to resist, she would follow her to the edge of the world and jump off of it.

Somehow her body finds her bed, and her feet a way to free themselves from her boots. At this point she’d be able to string a sentence together if Dinah wasn’t taking off her top and her bra and her pants and _oh God she’s naked._

_She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._

The word almost spill out of her mouth. By some miracle, she manages to hold her tongue, but it takes so much willpower there is none left to tear her eyes away from Dinah’s body. There are bruises, and cuts, and scars, but Helena’s never seen anything so perfect.

She crawls to her, slowly. Her touch is light as a feather, her kiss demanding. Helena’s not sure why she’s taking her hand again and guiding it until she feels a slippery warmth around her fingers and a shaky breath in her mouth.

“Yes, like that” Dinah breaths out, and the sound of it, God the sound sends her brain into overdrive: all she know is that she wants to hear that need in her voice again. So she pushes again. Her thrust is met by Dinah’s hips, moving greedily around her. She had no idea a body could move like that.

She gasps when Dinah’s fingers are back inside her. It all becomes a bit too much but her body is running on pure instinct now, her finger curling and pushing, faster, harder. Their breaths find a rhythm then lose it, they get shallow and desperate - until Dinah’s body trembles and folds, and her voice breaks into high-pitch, shaky moans.

“Keep going” she demands, and Helena obeys, again. Dinah throws her head back, riding her orgasm. Her fingers pick up the pace and that and the view is all it takes to tip Helena over the edge. Her body arches and quakes, clenching around Dinah’s fingers, until they both collapse, panting and covered in sweat.

As soon as her breaths are even again, Dinah gets up and gets dressed. Helena sits up and watches her in the semidarkness, unsure on what to say.

“That was fun, let’s do it again sometimes, killer.” Dinah proposes, putting her shoes back on.

There are so many thoughts buzzing into Helena’s brain, she’s unable to pick one, and ends up saying nothing.

“See you around” is all Dinah says before making her way out, leaving Helena staring at the empty space left behind her.

* * *

Jab. Jab. Cross. Hook. Jab. Jab. Uppercut.

_Focus._

Jab. Jab. Side Knee. High kick.

_Dinah’s hands in her hair._

Side elbow. Step back. Gloves up.

_Dinah’s mouth on her skin._

Jab. Hook. Hook. Hook.

_Dinah’s lips, Dinah’s eyes._

_Dina’s scars._

_Fuck._

“Fuck” Helena screams, landing a kick that unhooks the sandbag from its support. It plops on the ground with a thud.

“Jesus, Crossbow. Take it easy will ya?” Renee is still sipping her first coffee of the day and has already had enough of all the panting and grunting.

Helena grabs a chair without a word and places it under the hook. She picks up the bag from the floor and puts it back. Puts the chair aside. Starts over.

“Fucking nutcase” Renee mutters, taking the first file from the pile of cases Ellen has “lent” her. By the time Dinah shows up, Helena is drenched in sweat and exhausted.

“Where have you been? It’s 4pm!” Renee complains.

“I did’t know we were doing office hours” Dinah sneers “I had a job interview.”

“A what?”

“Listen, this vigilantes shit don’t pay no bills. I need a side hustle.”

“You gotta be kidding me...”

“Yes I got the job, thank you for asking” Dinah says pointedly “Don’t worry, it’s just three nights a week, at the Hangman.”

“Fancy” Renee comments, impressed. “Huntress can you stop? I got a lead on the drug case.”

Helena finally drops her fists and removes her gloves. As she walk to Renee’s desk, she can feel Dinah’s eyes lingering on her. She can’t quite figure out the discomfort she feels in her stomach, but it makes her want to bolt out of the room. She keeps it together though. She’s been trained to endure worse things. “Go on” is all she says, eyes exclusively planted on Renee.

* * *

Dinah tried to get to know her, she did. But getting Helena to say something, anything, is like pulling teeth. There’s always a twitch in her hand, a squint in her eye. Constantly on the defensive. It’s like trying to pet a feral cat.

So Dinah gave up on that.

Helena’s still hot though, and she still looks at her like she wants to hunt her down and devour her. So why the fuck not. They’re both adults, aren’t they?

Thankfully, it seems like things haven’t changed too much. Renee’s still a grumpy old aunt, Helena’s still a broody assassin who takes it out on anything she’d allowed to punch. Bags, mannequins, bad guys. It’s all the same.

And Dinah’s still broke and needs a job, so she has no time to give too much thoughts to this Huntress situation. It felt good, for sure. God it felt real good, finally getting a taste. To find her solid and powerful under her fingers - that’s something she had expected. What she didn’t know is that her skin would be so soft.

* * *

Dinah’s not sure why Renee sent her with Huntress. The lead they have is barely warm and she’s pretty sure they won’t find anything in this fucking warehouse. Just piles of bagged soil. It’s not like they can open them one by one to check if there’s cocaine inside, and there’s not even a security guard to pick a fight with. She guesses that after a week Montoya got tired of waiting and took a stab.

“Waste of time” Helena scoffs.

“Got somewhere better to be?” Dinah asks. She knows the answer. She been watching her. Helena shows up early at the base. Trains all day. Fights some guys in an alley. Goes for a ride. Rinse and repeat.

“None of your business” she growls.

Dinah laughs. She always laughs when Helena overreacts. She can’t take it personally, after all. Helena snaps at everything and everyone. She saw her punch a particularly stubborn bag of coffee open once.

“Maybe we can make the best of this terrible situation” she teases.

She expects more resistance when she shoves her on a stack of bags of perlite. Whatever. She’s going to take another bite of this goddamn snack. It’s not like she’s not kissing her back.

Dinah feels a little generous today. She quickly opens Huntress belt, pops a button open, drags a zip down. She kneels and tugs the whole thing down in a haste. Her tongue is almost too fast on Helena’s cause there’s a jolt in her body, and a _Ah!_ that sounds a lot like surprise.

Helena’s a quiet one, but even she has to give a little when Dinah flips her tongue and finally drags a small _Fuck!_ out of her throat.

_About time._

Dinah knows what she’s doing but she can always use a little feedback. It’s only polite. Her hands push on her tights a little harder to gain access and fully taste the nectar she’s being so generously granted.

When Helena’s body jerks again, it’s almost violent. Her mouth opens but no sound gets out. Her hands grasp the air then punch on the plastic wrapper beneath her, her head drops back.

Dinah considers herself satisfied with the outcome.

Helena’s eyes remain closed, a frown between her eyebrow and a ragged rhythm to her breath. Dinah cleans her mouth with the back of her hand, and waits for her to open them. She doesn’t.

“Take your time” she states, a little amused, making her way out.

* * *

Three times’ a habit. Dinah can live with that.

It happens after Helena’s workout. Helena’s showering and Dinah politely asks Renee to fuck off. Dinah takes Helena against the cold tiles of their bathroom. Helena takes another shower.

She never says anything, which is perfectly in character if you ask her. She’s not the most proactive, and her technique can use some refining, but she’s got good instincts and that body? Dinah can work with that.

Once it’s a habit, there’s no point resisting, right? There’s no patch for this addiction, and if she’s honest Dinah doesn’t want to stop. When they finally bust that drug operation, she knows exactly how they will celebrate.

* * *

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Helena mind has been reeling for three weeks. Three whole fucking weeks.

It has to stop.

She dreads going to the headquarter not knowing if she’s going to feel Dinah’s body on hers. She hates that she freezes every single time she’s next to her, that she cannot form a single sensible thought. She wants to tell her to stop, she wants to tell her to never stop. She wants to tell her she makes her feel things she didn’t know she could feel, she wants to tell her to fuck all the way off. She wants to tell her that her hand has started wondering over her body at night, trying to suppress an ache that bears her name. That when she’s done, she still thinks about her. She thinks about her every. Single. Minute.

She doesn’t want to follow her, it’s not her plan at all. But where else can she go? It’s a curse and a blessing that Dinah’s job is on a stage.

* * *

“A rum and coke. Double.” Dinah asks at the end of the night.

“You can say the usual” the bartender notes with a smile. Dinah smiles back. She’s getting into the swing of things at the Hangman, and it’s not half as bad as the Black Mask. No sleazy mobsters trying to pay for service she’s not willing to give, for starters. Free drinks. And her boss is nice.

“Thanks, Mike.”

“Hey, listen” the bartender leans over the counter and plop a dishcloth on his shoulder. Dinah hopes he’s not about to ask her out. “Do you know anyone tall and broody, built like a linebacker, wears all black?”

“You looking for a boyfriend?” she teases.

“I’m talking about a girl. Comes here regularly, and only when you’re on.”

Dinah frowns and looks around.

“Is she here now?”

“Just left. Always leaves when you’re done. Drinks two whiskeys, tips just a tad too much. Kinda looks dangerous. Are you in trouble or something?”

Dinah’s not sure. Not the trouble he means, that much she knows.

“No, I... sorry, I have to go.” she puts her still half-full glass down and almost sprints towards the exit. She pushes through the crowd, hot bodies pressing against her, music blaring from the speakers now that the DJ has taken over.

She makes it outside and the cold winter air is almost pleasant on her heated skin. She looks around, frantically, trying to find the familiar shape of a long rubber coat. She barely makes out the silhouette of a black motorbike speeding away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leave a comment ^_^


	2. Clouds on the horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two literal teenagers.

Yesterday was way too close.

Helena doesn’t make this kind of mistakes. Going to the same place for five nights in two weeks, ordering the same drink, sitting in the same spot. That bartender clocked her immediately. She saw him talking to Dinah, she saw her turning and looking, searching for someone in the crowd.

Too close. It can’t happen again.

She parks her bike in her usual spot, checks that Dinah’s car is not around. It’s unnecessary, she knows she’s working tonight. Thursday, Friday and Saturday, nine to one, 83 6th Street. Helena knows.

Did she see her?

Two whiskeys and riding her bike. That’s new. That’s something she’d never done, not when she needed to be sharp and ready to kill. But being sharp is not as simple anymore. Sharp are the pangs she feels in her stomach every time she gets too close, and every second she’s too far. Helena’s known no peace since Dinah...

It was before that.

It was the moment she watched her press her arrow into Szasz throat. It was the very first time she laid her eyes on her. Even then, she had tried to leave and couldn’t. What a funny way to jump from one obsession to another.

Sharp is not cutting it anymore, and she’s trying something different. Maybe numb will work for her, who knows.

The warehouse is quiet and empty, almost spectral. She flips a switch and six neon lights bathe the room in a cold blueish light. She changes her mind. Too sharp. Lights off.

There’s a small lamp on her desk, Renee likes her decor to match one of a police station. Nostalgia is a bitch, Helena thinks, but it’s working out for her tonight so she won’t complain. The yellow lightbulb brightens the room just enough.

She sits at her desk in silence. Now what?

Her body is too sore to work out again, her mind to foggy to go for a ride. So she sits. She grabs a pen, turns it in her hands.

_Click._

The tip pops out, a droplet of ink on shines on it next to the lamp.

_Click._

It slides back and disappears.

It’s been years, she thinks. She used to do it all the time. Sit in the semidarkness and write. There are only so many ways a teenager can make sense of the world, and for her it was pouring words into a page. They were coming from a place she couldn’t reach any other way, deep and hidden like an underground spring. The words that got to the page could never form on her tongue.

She pulls out a small notebook.

_Click._

It’s hard.

_Click._

It’s not, actually. The words are right there. They just sound too stupid to write down. They will stare back at her, pitiless, and then she’ll truly be naked. But they sting and push, they demand their space.

_Click._

I am a bird and she’s the storm.

That’s it? That’s the best you can do? The words sit quietly on the paper. Once they’ve left her, they become cold and still, nothing more than a line of ink. She reads them back and they come alive. She wonders if that’s what it feels like to be a guitar string, vibrating at the same frequency every time it’s struck.

I am a bird and she’s the storm  
she screams and I can’t make a sound  
she bends my wings to fit her form  
and drive my will into ground.

It happened again. Helena has no idea where those word come from, how they somehow string together to make sense. But they do, at least to her. There’s something magic in the process, and she can only tap into it in her darkest hour.

The words keep coming. She keeps writing.

* * *

There’s a noise. She flips the notebook close and almost jumps from her chair.

“Oh, you’re here.” Renee’s voice sounds more disappointed than surprised. She’s holding a brown paper bag.

_Click._

“It’s my warehouse, isn’t it?” Helena says, a little defensively.

“Yeah, of course” Renee scoffs “But you’re usually not here on weekend nights, and Dinah’s working.”

Well that’s the reason she’s not there on weekend nights, but she’s not going to tell Renee.

“I come here when I need some time for myself” Renee adds, placing the paper bag on her own desk. It makes a clinking noise, and Helena know’s there are bottles inside.

“Yeah, well, me too.”

Renee nods. She grabs a bag of ice from the small freezer she keeps next to her chair, and a glass from her drawer. She pops a couple of cubes in.

“Care to join me?” she asks, pushing the brown paper down, revealing a whiskey bottle. “It’s good stuff.”

“Sure.”

Renee grunts in approval, and gives her half a smile. She prepares their drinks in silence, then slides one over. Helena takes something too big to be called a sip.

“Never pegged you for a drinker.” Montoya admits, watching her swallow without a grimace. Helena shrugs. “Don’t let it become a habit, Crossbow” she adds, emptying her glass then filling it up again. “Bit too late for me.”

There’s a bitterness in her words. Helena raises an eyebrow and down the rest of her drink, almost defiantly, then helps herself to another two fingers of whiskey.

“I’m serious.”

“I have it under control, don’t worry.” Helena mumbles.

“Yeah, sure.” Montoya almost laughs, but she just lets a puff of air out instead “we all do.”

“We?"

“Addiction is a weird beast. You don’t know until you’re in too deep.”

“I’m not a fucking addict.”

“Sure you’re not.”

Renee takes another sip, this time she tries her best to make the glass last a little longer.

“There are three steps. First you think you have it under control. It’s just a fun thing to do. Makes you feel good. Soon enough, you crave it. You sit in the dark thinking about how you want to stop and how you want to do it again. You feel dirty and disgusting. You only feel alive when you do it. Still in time to stop though.”

Helena averts her gaze, her eyelids open and close rapidly trying to hold something back. Are they tears? Helena’s not sure.

“And step three?”

“You know you’re at step three when you can’t function without it. Even worst, you realise you can function with it. If it’s drugs, that's when you start using alone. Life goes by, and you do it every day. It becomes part of who you are. Can be anything. Cocaine, working out...” she gives Helena a knowing look “revenge. If I can give you one piece of advice, it’s this: pick an addiction that’s good for you.”

* * *

Dinah’s eyes skim the crowd every time the stage lights move away from her line of sight.

She needs to focus, she knows that. She doesn’t want to look frantic or strike a false note.

She knows how to do this. Performing has always been second nature. She knows how people look at her, she’d go as far as saying she enjoys it. She wishes people would listen the same way they look but hey, a girl can’t have everything, and this gig is paid.

That’s why she wore that dress tonight, black mesh with the slit going all the way up. That’s why her make up is a little heavier, smokey eyes and dark lipstick.

It has nothing to do with how she’s searching the crowd for a familiar mop of dark hair and matching eyes. Absolutely nothing.

She’d do it for her, if she asked. She’d dress up and put on a show. Hell, she’d sing for her if she wanted her to. She’d do anything.

God, she’d do anything for her.

There’s a lukewarm clap, then the lights go off on her and the dance floor lights up. It’s the best transition, they figured. Stage goes pitch black and she can sneak out unnoticed, freeing the patrons from the burden of paying attention to her. She’s still some type of glorified decoration, after all.

She didn’t come.

Dinah wishes her disappointment didn’t sting so much. This is not how it was supposed to go.

* * *

“I gotta go.” Helena stands up a little too hastily, and has to hold herself up on her desk.

“Where?” Renee’s suspicious by nature, and Helena’s sudden determination looks like bad news.

“For a ride.”

“No fucking way.”

“What, you think I’m too drunk?”

“I know you are.”

“Then I am, fuck off.”

Helena puts on her leather jacket and grabs her helmet.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Helena, put that shit down and call a taxi.”

She doesn’t reply, and picks up her keys from the desk.

“Jesus” Renee stands up and rolls her eyes, and lounges forward to grab the keys from her hand. By some miracle, Helena’s reflexes kick in and she pulls her hand away quickly enough. She can barely keep her balance.

“Give me the keys, Huntress.”

Helena’s nostrils flare. Renee tries again, but she’s met by a punch in her stomach.

“Get off me” Helena seethes.

Renee grunts, but doesn’t fall. She’s done this enough times. She strikes. Her fist hits the target, landing heavily on Helena’s jaw. In any other occasion she wouldn’t stand a chance, but she knows tonight Helena is way more drunk than she is. Perks of being an alcoholic, she figures.

Helena reacts immediately. The adrenaline hits her system and for a moment she’s deadly again. Montoya knows she needs to ride this out, so she focuses on dodging the punches that come her way.

It doesn’t take long for her to find an opening. Helena’s movement are messy, all power and no balance. Renee crouches and jabs at her stomach once, twice, and with a third blow Helena’s on the floor, groaning.

“I’m taking these” Renee says picking the keys from the floor. “Go take a shower and a nap, kid. Drink lots of water. See you Monday.”

* * *

Dinah wakes up in a bad mood two days in a row.

She tries to push it aside and get on with her day, but it filters into everything she does. She cuts a slice of bread and throws the knife on the table. Her belly chain gets tangled, she snaps it. Her coffee is too hot so she pours it in the drain.

_It’s not Helena. It’s not. It’s anything but. Not sure what, but positively not her._

Her phone rings, and it’s not Helena. She throws it on the side.

_Ok so it’s definitely Helena._

Why didn’t she come? Why does she never make the first move? Why does Dinah always have to fucking beg for a touch, for a crumb of attention?

She could stop.

It’s not like they have an agreement, it’s not like they even talk. She’s not even sure it was her at the club: surely there’s plenty of tall, broody, dangerous chicks in town. Maybe she had just hoped it was her.

Because let’s be honest, Dinah would kill for a sign. For something more than a couple of lustful glares and the occasional fuck. For her to be different, to not make her feel like a damn piece of meat like everybody else.

Dinah’s better than that.

When she gets to the warehouse, she’s determined to keep it cool and pay no attention to Helena, even if she’s training in that fucking crop top of hers.

“At least one of you showed up today.” Renee notes, barely lifting her eyes from her papers.

Great. She’s not even there for Dinah to ignore her.


	3. Weathering the storm

The knock on Dinah’s door is firm and a little too loud.

It’s another grim day over Gotham, wind and rain and thunders. Definitely not a day for surprise visits. She grabs a small revolver on and tiptoes to her door. She knows better than to look thought the peephole. Montoya’s first lesson was to stay out of bullets way.

“Who’s there?” she almost yells.

“It’s Huntress.”

She puts her gun down and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dinah seethes as she opens the door. She's angry, and worried, because Helena’s disappeared off the face of the Earth and neither her nor Renee have been able to track her down.

Helena's drenched, hair sticking to her face, fists clenched and dripping water on her doormat. The rage inside Dinah leaves a bit more room for concern.

“What happened? It’s been days.”

Her words seem to go over Helena’s head. Maybe she hasn’t heard them at all.

“Why do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Touch me. Why do you touch me... why do you- shit! Why do you touch me like that?”

“Are you drunk?”

Helena’s words are not slurred, just angry, but there’s a stench of alcohol in her breath she can catch from four feet away.

“Not anymore.” she shrugs.

Dinah begs to differ. She’s just at a very late stage of her drunkenness.

“Is that what you’ve been doing for the past couple of days? Drinking?”

“I needed to think.” Helena admits.

“Come inside, you’re shaking.”

“No!” Helena leans on her doorframe, and Dinah thinks she needs it to stand up.

“Ok.” Dinah says “ok... why are you here then?”

Helena licks a drop of water that’s fallen on her lips, and almost stomps her feet in frustration. She considers leaving, but it’s taken her twenty minutes in the rain to make up her mind, now she must go through with it.

“Because you make me feel all these things and at first it’s good and then it's just... dirty. You touch me and I- and then- then you just go, like it’s nothing, like you didn’t just use me and I... I don’t know what to do. I can’t get you out of my head, but you don’t want to... you never... I don’t know. I fucking don’t know anymore!” Her fist hits the wall and a piece of dry paint falls down “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Helena, what...” Dinah tries to wrap her head around what’s happening, and maybe manage to calm her down in the process.

“No one’s ever... no one. You were my first.” Helena confesses.

_No. No no no no no._

That’s not what Dinah had planned. It was just supposed to be a harmless game between two adults, just a way to let off some steam. God, of course she’s lost. Of course she’s drunk. Hell, Dinah would be too if her first time was followed by a pat on the back and a ‘see you later’.

“I came to see you, at work” Helena continues “just to hear your voice. Cause you didn’t say anything, you don’t say anything to me anymore, and I needed to... I’m sorry, you must think I’m such a creep.”

_It was her._

“No, Helena, you’re not... Please, come in.”

Helena gives in. She takes a step forward and the whole world tilts.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok, here” Dinah wedges her shoulder under her arm and holds her by her waist.

“I don’t know how to tell you that I want you to stay after.” Helena mumbles.

“After...?”

“After. Always.”

* * *

Helena has plopped onto a chair and looks like... well she looks like shit, there’s no way around it.

“Stay put” Dinah demands, and gets her a glass of water “And drink this.”

She grabs the softest towel she finds and offers it to Helena, but she’s a little out of it and just frowns. Dinah feels the guilt pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

“Ok, come here” Dinah stands behind her and gently starts rubbing the towel on her head, holding her upright at the same time. Helena’s eyes close for a moment but immediately loses balance.

“Thanks” she utters, then tries to stand “I should go.”

“I don’t think so.” Dinah pushes her down by the shoulders and hears her take a sharp breath in. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to... I won’t touch you again.”

Helena drops her head in her hands, elbows on the table.

“You’re too drunk to go anywhere. Let me get you some dry clothes.”

* * *

Dinah waits for Helena to get changed in another room. Does it make sense? She’s not sure. She’s already seen all there is to see, but it somehow still feels wrong to watch. So she waits in the bedroom, and listens to her bumping into every single piece of furniture she owns.

“You done?” she asks once the noises have subsided.

“Yep.”

Everything’s a little too short, but she’s managed to squeeze into Dinah’s sweatpants and t-shirt. Dinah keeps the door open and lets Helena make her way to the bed. She wants to help but prefers to supervise from a distance. Helena doesn’t have the strength to argue, so she slips under the cover and crawls up in a foetal position.

Her head starts pounding and she knows tomorrow with be harsh.

* * *

Dinah wants to break something. A bottle, a picture frame, a plate. Anything. Instead, she paces her living room up and down, looking for a way to placate her anger. She’s furious with herself. She grabs a pillow and tries to pull it apart with her bare hands. It doesn’t work, of course, and it only adds to her frustration.

God has she got everything absolutely wrong.

Helena looked so stoic, and strong, and just so damn cool. How was she supposed to know she had never... _you should have asked. You should have checked in. Consent, Dinah. Active, enthusiastic consent. Rule number one._

She thought she had gotten it. Helena wasn’t exactly a passive participant, no sir. She held and pushed and kissed and bit. Dinah remembers. She has a couple of bruises to prove it.

Why didn’t she figure it out? Her touch was so tentative, her kisses almost doubtful. She was blindsided by how fucking hot Helena is. _Absolutely no excuse, you moron._

She was so sure Helena wanted this. She did. Dinah knows she did.

_That’s not the problem, asshole._

The voice in her head is getting really fucking annoying.

_What is it then?_

_It’s not what you did, it’s what you didn’t do._

Dinah knows.

Helena looked so fragile tonight. She’s never looked fragile before.

* * *

When she wakes up, there’s a glass of water with two pills on the nightstand. Helena doesn’t take them. Instead, she drags herself out of bed and faces the pounding headache that will follow her for the rest of the day. By the amount of light coming in from the window, it must be past noon. She briefly considers jumping out of the window, but they’re on the sixth floor and her reflexes are not the sharpest right now.

The living room looks empty. Her clothes and neatly placed on separate chairs to dry. Everything is a little too bright.

“Hey” Dinah greets her, coming out of the restroom. She’s brushing her teeth so she must have just woken up too. Helena replies with a grunt and a face scrunch.

“Did you take the pills I left for you?”

“No, they were loose.” Helena replies. Never accept anything that’s unsealed and unlabelled. It was an early lesson in her training.

“I left them there, you can trust me.”

The words sound so pathetically wrong in her ears, Dinah feels her stomach twisting. But Helena nods.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“Don’t” Dinah stops her, and her tone is a little too demanding, a little too harsh. So she softens it. “Don’t be.”

She gets closer. It’s all a bit tentative, she almost expects Helena to hiss like a cornered animal. She doesn’t. She just flinches. It hurst just the same, but Dinah knows she deserves it.

“Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll make you some food?”

* * *

Dinah doesn’t remember the last time she cooked for someone. It’s different, she thinks. Now if the fire is set too high, it does matter. If the toast gets burnt, if the eggs break as she flip them, if she slips with the salt, it all matters. And it hasn’t mattered for a very long time.

When Helena emerges from the bathroom, there’s steam filtering out of the door and a sweet scent of coconut milk shampoo. She has a towel on her shoulders, and hasn’t bothered drying her hair.

She sits at the table in silence. She looks mortified.

“Here, I made you some fried eggs on toast and some salad” Dinah explains, as if that wasn’t obvious by the fried eggs on toast and salad on the plate she’s putting in front of her. She feels a little stupid, but Helena looks at her with half a smile so it’s ok. It’s fine.

“I’ll take those pills now if that’s ok” Helena says, her voice coarse, once her stomach is full.

“Sure, let me get them for you.”

Helena’s tired. So, so tired. She feels any sense of safety crumbling around her. She hates asking for help, she hates feeling this weak, this exposed.

As she takes the pills from her hands, Dinah notices her fingertips are cold despite the hot shower. It’s an instinct. She doesn’t think much before pulling Helena’s hair from her face and pressing her lips on her forehead, the way her mother used to do when se was little.

“You’re burning up.”

Helena tilts her head up and there’s a shine in her eyes, and paleness to her skin. More than that, there’s an imploring softness in her gaze. Almost as if that simple touch has melted something inside her.

Dinah pulls away, remembering she’s promised: no more touching. But Helena is clearly sick and needs to rest, and Dinah just wants to...

_Take care of her._

It’s an order. The voice in her head is almost scolding her. She’s not sure how, but she wants to.

“Can you... dry my hair again?” Helena asks, feebly, then almost imperceptibly adds: “It was very nice.”

Dinah thinks Helena may be a little delirious cause she’s never asked for anything, ever. But at least she has instructions.

“Of course” she says, and slips her hands under the towel on her shoulders. She presses it against her tips at first, catching the droplets still hanging on them, then gently rubs her scalp in slow circles.

“You stopped talking to me.” Helena mumbles, her head following Dinah’s movements. “You used to talk to me all the time, ask me if I have a favourite colour or what kind of music I listen to. Then you stopped.”

The words pour our of her mouth like they only did on paper before. Helena doesn’t have enough energy to hold them in anymore.

“You never really answered anyway.” is all Dinah can say.

“I didn’t know what to say. I never thought about those things, and no one’s ever asked me before.”

_Oh._

“I thought I was upsetting you.” Dinah’s voice has turned soft.

“I was upset. I felt so... inadequate. But I wasn’t upset with you.”

Dinah forgets to keep moving her hands, and Helena subtly grunts at the lack of contact. It makes her smile a little. She resumes, diligently.

“I’m sorry, I should have been more patient.”

“You got tired of me, I get it.”

“No! I... to be honest, I thought you just wanted to fuck. The way you looked at me really gave some type of message, Huntress.”

Helena’s face turns bright red and her hands tighten around the armrests.

“I-I didn’t realise it was so obvious.”

_At least she got that right._

“You’re just so pretty” Helena mumbles “and I never know... I never know what to do with myself around you. Sometimes I want to talk to you but the words just don’t come out. I’m sorry I stared.”

The towel is not doing much anymore, so Dinah tosses it on the side, then pulls Helena’s head back so it rests on her stomach. Their eyes meet for the first time in what feels like forever. Dinah runs a hand through Helena’s hair, untangling a couple of knots and massaging her scalp at the same time. It comforts both to no end.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words are out of Helena’s mouth before she can stop them. She shuts her eyes with a grimace, and Dinah can almost see her biting her tongue. She leans over, and gives her a slightly awkward backward kiss, barely pecking at her bottom lip. She feels Helena’s nose pressing gently on her chin, her damp hair tickling her stomach.

“Anytime” she whispers.


	4. Under the weather

Helena’s body stiffens then springs up from the chair. She looks like she just woke up from a nightmare, and is readjusting to reality. A little startled, but mainly trying to rationalise a terrifying vision. It lasts a split second, then she straightens her back and drops her shoulders, trying to find her composure.

“I don’t need your pity.”

Her words are dry, stoic. Dinah finds this is a much more familiar Helena than the one she’s just kissed. It’s both reassuring and disappointing.

“My pity?” she scoffs, a little insulted.

“I get it now. Thank you for putting me out of my misery.” it may be the first time there’s sarcasm in her voice, and Dinah thinks Renee’s left her mark on the assassin. “She’s staring so much, let’s throw this poor sucker a bone.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“This? This what? You made it pretty clear there’s nothing.”

The rage is back. Dinah feels it burning and bubbling up.

_Nothing._

“Nothing? Do you know how many times I tried to talk to you and got nothing? I tried to get to know you, I tried to ask you out, hell I even tried to not take it personally every time you snapped at me for no reason. I tried to call you for three days and you didn’t pick up! Where were you? You just... disappeared, I was so fucking worried. Then you show up drunk at my door and tell me there’s _nothing_?”

She gives Helena a shove. It’s weak, and a little desperate, just frustration spilling over. She can feel her eyes filling with tears.

“I can’t always do all the work, you gotta give something back” she steps closer, ready to push her again. Her wrists end up in Helena’s hands. She tries to punch her chest, but her arms can barely move in her grip. “You’re all I think about, Helena. How is this nothing? I just... I just want to be close to you so bad and that’s the only way you let me!”

Her voice breaks a little. There’s a sob.

_Fuck, not this. Don’t cry._

She’s gotta keep it together. It’s too humiliating to break down like this in front of her. She keeps her eyes low, and frees an arm to hastily wipe a tear.

“Why?” she hears.

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to be close to me?”

Dinah laughs, because yeah, why? Why did she have to crush on the most inaccessible person on Earth?

“Fuck if I know” she mutters.

Helena drops her arms. She’s quiet again, and her silence feels more loaded than usual. Dinah looks up and sees the utter disappointment in her eyes, and realises she’s been unfair.

“That’s not true.” she admits “Look, you almost never open up, but when you do, when I get a glance of that... I just want to see all of it. You know, when I catch you playing with the dog next door, or when you write down our coffee order when’s your turn to buy, cause that one time you got Renee the wrong one. When you talk to Cass. You’re so protective and soft with her.”

“I didn’t think anyone noticed I play with Brutus.”

“You even know its name.”

“He’s a good dog.”

Dinah chuckles because of course the dog gets the compliment.

“Dinah?”

Helena’s voice is barely a whisper, but there’s a question in her intonation. Dinah hopes maybe this is the time she’ll ask her to stay.

“Mh?”

“I don’t... I don’t feel so good.”

Dinah watches Helena’s body go limp. She barely has time to wrap an arm around her and guide her to the sofa behind them.

“Helena, look at me” Dinah snaps her fingers in front of her face, trying to wake her up “Shit.”

She holds her up as she slips from under her shoulder, then helps her lay down. She places her wrist on her forehead and realises her temperature has risen.

“Dinah” Helena calls again, her voice is feeble and croaky.

“Yes, I’m here. I’ll get you some water...”

“This” is all she manages to say as she pulls out a couple of small sachets from her pocket. “Renee.”

Dinah looks at the label, that reads “rehydration salts”. Renee knew exactly what was going to happen, and gave Helena her special hangover cure.

“Good idea, but we’re gonna need to put your temperature down too. Are you with me?”

Helena nods, and Dinah is just happy she’s conscious.

“Ok, good. You scared me for a second there, killer. Stay put, alright? I’m going to take care of you.”

Helena’s pale lips stretch in a tentative smile as Dinah googles “how to lower a high temperature” on her phone. There’s a little crinkle between her eyebrow, and her thumbs hover over the screens while she mouth the instructions. She goes to her kitchen and comes back with a glass of translucent white liquid and a pack of frozen peas.

“Ok, step one: keep hydrated. Here.” she reads off her phone while offering the water and salts. Helena props herself up with great effort. She gulps the entire thing in one go, and a small trickle falls from her lips. Dinah instinctively wipes it with her thumb.

“Good job. Step two: stay in bed and rest. So, lay back down.”

Helena follows her orders diligently.

“We’re going to skip point three cause I’ve already given you two paracetamol and you need to wait a couple more hours to take more. Four: it says here you should take a lukewarm bath, or use cold compresses. We’re gonna do the second one cause I only have a shower.” Dinah explains while wrapping the bag of frozen peas in a kitchen towel. She gently places it on Helena’s forehead. “Look, I’m not sure this is going to work. There’s another article that says I should use warm water instead of frozen stuff for fever, but I don’t know, this feels more effective. And maybe-”

Helena takes her hand and the bag and holds both against her forehead. She makes an effort to keep her eyes open and plants them on Dinah, who entirely forgets to finish her sentence.

“It’s going to be fine. It’s just a fever.”

“Yeah, ok... it’s just that you’re always so tough, I’m not used to... this.”

“I’m still tough!” Helena scoffs.

“Yeah, you’re the toughest cookie in the tin.”

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

“It wasn’t. You’re stubborn and dumb and spent god knows how long in the rain. Get some sleep ok?”

Helena would be offended if Dinah’s hand wasn’t cupping her face and looking at her with genuine fondness. That gentle touch is all it takes for Helena to relax and fall in a deep, dreamless slumber.

* * *

Some people look small and defenceless in their sleep.

Not the Huntress.

The slightly too small outfit makes it even more obvious how absolutely jacked she is. Her biceps push against the sleeves, her abs peek between the white t-shirt and the pastel pink sweatpants. Dinah figures the way it makes her feel is several levels of inappropriate.

She hasn’t forgotten how she felt under her fingers. She also hasn’t forgotten Helena’s first time was a post-fight adrenaline fuelled quickie and Dinah was the sole responsible for that.

_Absolute dick._

Helena isn’t a saint or an innocent little girl. She has more blood on her hand that Dinah can fathom. When she’s out for revenge, she kills slowly. She loves a fight and will make it as crude as possible. That, Dinah likes. A lot.

She’s also protective and loyal, and a little shy around the people she cares about. Sometimes she clinically explains her next social interaction to check if she’s doing it right. She’s generous and even if she makes a little fuss about it, she never refuses to help out. And that, Dinah loves.

Helena snores lightly and it makes Dinah smile.

Her clothes are still scattered around the room, hanging on various chairs. Dinah decides to tidy up a little - they’re already dry: turns out wearing mostly rubber and vinyl has its perks - and starts folding them. Something falls off the pocket of Helena’s coat with a heavy thud. Dinah curses under her breath, thinking she’s just dropped her phone.

It’s not. It’s a small notebook. The wavy edges tell Dinah it most likely got wet last night. She probably shouldn’t open it, but she just wants to check it didn’t get ruined. She pulls the small elastic that keeps it closed, and the notebook opens with a feeble creak. A couple of pages are glued together, but overall the water didn’t soak through it.

Dinah doesn’t want to linger too long, but the pages are... packed with words. Words written hurriedly as if there wasn’t enough time to get them all out. Words underlined and circled. Words scribbled over and corrected, with notes going all the way to the edges.

It takes her all of her willpower to shut the notebook without reading it, but she won’t do this to Helena again. She won’t take from her before she’s completely sure it’s what they both want.

There’s one thing she learnt, though: the Huntress, cold-blooded killer and millionaire vigilante, writes poetry.


	5. As right as rain

“Dinah”

Helena calls her and she rushes over. Her eyes are close tight and so are her fists. She’s still sleeping, shivering, a sheen of sweat beading her forehead. Dinah tucks her under the sheet, grabs a damp towel and wipes her heated skin, hoping to give her some relief.

“Come on, killer” she pleads.

Helena pants lightly, and Dinah’s worry increases. She’s overcome by a sense of powerlessness. All she can do is take Helena’s hand in hers and wait.

* * *

It takes a few hours for Helena to sweat out her fever.

She wakes up to a hum and a clammy feeling in her palm. Dinah’s holding it between her hands and in front of her mouth, singing softly into it. Her eyes are closed and she’s rocking gently back and forth.

“Dinah?”

Dinah’s eyes flip open. She releases her immediately, and dries her palms on her pants.

“Sorry” she croaks, and notices the sheen of condensation over Helena’s hand. She grabs the kitchen towel and dries it off a little clumsily. Helena feels the heat in her cheeks, but this time she’s pretty sure it’s not the fever.

“How are you feeling?” Dinah asks, trying to bring the attention to something else.

“Better. Much better, actually.” Helena replies, assessing her headache and the soreness in her body.

“Thank God” Dinah lets out, revealing all her worry and relief. She clears her throat and tries to play it cool. She brings her wrist to Helena’s forehead once again. “Almost down to normal... here, take a couple more of these.” She picks up the box of painkillers from the coffee table and Helena notices her notebook next to it.

She hurriedly props herself up and grabs it nervously.

“Did you read this?” she's ask, and Dinah can feel the panic in her voice.

“No!” she reassures her “No, I didn’t. I just checked if it’d been ruined by the rain, but I didn’t read anything.”

Helena turns the notebook in her hands, and mumbles “ok, good.”

“You write a lot.” Dinah comments.

Helena’s head perks up, and she almost says something snarly. Dinah recognises her stare, she knows when Helena is about to snap. She doesn’t though. She can see she’s making an effort to stay calm.

“I thought you said you didn’t read it.”

“I just opened it and when I saw what it was I closed it immediately. I swear I didn’t read a word.”

Dinah worries a nail. Her leg is bouncing up and down, making her whole body move nervously.

“I’m sorry things went down this way” she finally lets out. Helena raises an eyebrow and Dinah knows she’s gonna need to be a little more specific. She sighs. “I’m sorry I followed you home and... pushed you to have sex. I’m sorry I left without saying anything. I didn’t know you were... you had no experience” Helena immediately turns a couple of shades brighter. Dinah continues, and if her eyes are still locked on the ground, her voice becomes steadier, more earnest. “You deserved better. You deserved your first time to be with someone you love, not a random chick who can’t keep it in her pants.”

“You’re not just a random chick” Helena mumbles “you know that.”

Dinah takes a deep breath, and thinks that’s the nicest thing Helena’s ever called her

“I guess it wasn’t the worst” Helena continues, scratching the back of her neck “Like, the day after I kinda googled a couple of things and some people have really bad first times.”

“You did what?” Dinah blurts with a chuckle. Helena gives her a little smile in return, then looks away. She’s embarrassed, sure, but at least Dinah is not as sad as she was a minute ago. She doesn’t like when Dinah’s sad, she finds.

“I went down a pretty deep rabbit hole, ended up on Quora...”

“Please tell me you didn’t post a question.”

“I did” Helena admits, scrunching her nose. “It helped a little, confused me a lot. People have a lot of opinions and even more horror stories, Jeez.”

Dinah smiles form ear to ear, and Helena thinks if that’s what talking does, she’ll talk. She’ll talk even if she feels like throwing up, even if she wants to bolt out of the room and ride her motorbike to the next state.

“They mainly told me to talk to you. And I tried, I did. But I’m just not very good at it.”

“Understatement of the century.” Dinah can’t hold the comment back.

“Hey now.” Helena wants to be offended, but her words come out a little too soft.

“I appreciate you talking to me now.” Dinah admits, and Helena just nods.

This can’t be it, Dinah thinks. Why are they quiet again? There’s so much they need to talk about. By the glances she’s giving her, Helena seems to be thinking the same, but can’t find a way to bring them up, so she just fidgets a bit more with her notebook.

“I like you, a lot.”

To the surprise of both, it’s Helena who breaks the silence, and it’s pretty obvious it’s taking all her willpower to do to. “I want to get to know you too. I’m sorry I’m so weird and awkward and quiet. And the sex was... spectacular.”

Dinah laughs right from her belly. Helena thinks it’s worth the feeling of dread in her stomach.

“God you’re something else” Dinah chuckles “And for a beginner, I have to say you’re not bad yourself.”

Helena isn’t sure how to take it, so she guesses she’ll just blush some more.

“We’ll get you some more practice when you’re feeling better.” she adds with a wink. The look of sheer panic in Helena’s eyes makes her take a step back. “I mean if you want to. And I’ll ask first. No more ambushes. We don’t have to. Forget I said anything.” she rambles.

“N-no, yeah, I mean... I do. Want to. Please have sex with me.”

Dinah laughs again and who thought Helena would be the funny one between them?

“Why don’t we start with a date?”

“Yeah, ok, that... that sounds good.”

This is not too bad, Helena thinks. The world didn’t collapse, her brain didn’t implode. She can do this.

“Can I ask you what’s in there?” Dinah says, pointing at the notebook she’s clutching in her hand.

“Just words” Helena replies “all the ones I can’t get out of my mouth.”

“And what are they about?”

Helena looks down at the black cover where her nail left a small indent. She hesitates for a moment, then flicks through the pages until she picks one to show her.  
  


**_Birdsong_ **  
  


_Spring has come to the garden._  
_Creepers wrap the lifeless tree,_  
_a seed has found its hollow trunk_  
_and slowly bloomed within._

_The fountain dried its idols’ tears_  
_and now they stare with vacant eyes_  
_a swarm of ants unravels neatly_  
_and crawls upon their skin and mine._

_The canary’s come to the garden_  
_and nested in the lifeless tree_  
_her song has found my hollowed chest_  
_and slowly bloomed within._  
  


“They’re all about you.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dropping both chapters today cause they're short :)  
> Do me a solid and leave a comment! 
> 
> I would love to write a couple of one shots following this story cause I had so much fun writing it so leave your ideas ;)


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